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He pulls open the heavy door and shrugs. “A couple guys from work told me about it. Said it’s got the best burgers in town.”
“Hopefully it has something other than burgers.”
“Just get your ass in. I said I was taking you out. I never said I was letting you choose.”
Luckily, the inside looks better than the outside. It still has that run-down, dive bar feel, but the floor and tables are clean. After the cheery waitress seats us, I take in all the eclectic beer signs and travel memorabilia cluttering the walls. There’s even an old fishing net draped over the far wall.
“So, how do you want to decorate our walls?”
“Decorate. Our. Walls? What do I look like? Martha Stewart?”
“You know you live there, too, right?”
“Doesn’t mean I wanna spend all day debating what frou-frou shit to put on the walls. ‘Sides, we’re still renovating, you’ve got plenty of time to figure out what shit you wanna clutter it up with.”
“Please tell me you actually think before you speak at work.”
“Never.” He laughs and sits back in his booth.
The waitress takes that moment to come back to our table. “Can I get you guys started on anything to drink?”
“Beer,” Brendan states.
“We’ll both have the beer flights.” I smile at her, clarifying my brother’s crudeness. “So, how do you like being the foreman?” I ask once she leaves.
“It’s different. Still getting used to being the guy in charge.”
“You’ll get there. You deserve it.”
He raises his eyebrow.
“It’s what you’ve been working toward for the past ten years. You deserve this."
"Longer than that."
"Yeah." Sometimes I forget he started with the construction union while I was still in college.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” he smiles, and leans forward as the waitress returns with two platters full of small glasses.
“Here you go. Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”
I sit up like Brendan. “Um, yeah, I’ll have the wild salmon.”
“Excellent choice, and for you, sir?”
“A burger. Big and medium rare.”
“Of course.” She smiles and strolls over to the next table.
“Cute ass.” Brendan smirks, turning to watch her go.
I glance over his shoulder and shrug. “A little thin. And about ten years too young.” Seriously, the girl doesn’t look a day over eighteen.
“Still legal.”
“She called you sir.”
He shrugs. “Maybe she has daddy issues.”
